For wrath is the cause of death to the foolish, and he who has no wisdom comes to his end through passion.

If only my passion might be measured, and put into the scales against my trouble!

For the arrows of the Ruler of all are present with me, and their poison goes deep into my spirit: his army of fears is put in order against me.

But come back, now, come: you who are wounding yourself in your passion, will the earth be given up because of you, or a rock be moved out of its place?

His food becomes bitter in his stomach; the poison of snakes is inside him.

He takes the poison of snakes into his mouth, the tongue of the snake is the cause of his death.

The thunder makes clear his passion, and the storm gives news of his wrath.

Shaking with passion, he is biting the earth; he is not able to keep quiet at the sound of the horn;